


The Boy with Angel Blood

by DanDeeLion



Series: Sword and Shield Series [3]
Category: Original Work, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Backstory, Blood and Gore, Excalibur, F/M, M/M, Nephilim, Older Eren Yeager, Original Character(s), Past Torture, Prequel, Retelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25485517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanDeeLion/pseuds/DanDeeLion
Summary: Before Eren Yeager was his name, and before the Eldian Kingdom, the Angels watched over the humans, and their home was at Colossal Peaks. From there, the first Nephilim meets his first master.A/N: A short story origin of Eren Yeager for my current story, LifeLine. If you're confused, please check the series first before jumping into this one.
Series: Sword and Shield Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635742
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	The Boy with Angel Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Ola everyone, welcome back to LifeLine, By the time you are reading this, I’ve more or less updated before my birthday. Expect a hopeful Birthday update next month. Recently, I have been seeing comments about the world-building of LifeLine. It's a lot to take in at times, but I do try my best to have some sort of balance between the story and the history of the world. So to get you all cozy up and understand the kind of world my fantasy-driven brain concocted because of the songs I’ve been listening to. Here’s another “LifeLine Special Story” I’ll be leaving a note on the series about this, and hope you all check out the short story. I’ve really contemplated on either squeezing this within the LifeLine plot, but find it to be a long drag and would push the already settled plotline I had made.
> 
> Nonetheless, this also serves as a prologue of a sort to the first fic/prequel of LifeLine, which the title would be “The Lance Corporal”. To give you all a sorta overview. The Lance Corporal is a story that was inspired by the story of King Arthur and Excalibur, the original plot actually happened to be a wholely different take of a sort. I was so fascinated with the story of the sword in the stone and tried my hand at creating a retelling...which ended up becoming fanfiction because I had so much fun adapting the characters of AoT to this story.

“And may the Archangels continue to bless our lands for the centuries to come.” Uther Pendragon murmured in praise as he knelt in front of Micah, Raphael, and Lucien. He stood close to his mother, the slender warm fingers patting gently on the crown of his head. It has been his first time to leave the white marble halls of the Earthly temples to the angels. Uther Pendragon, the first ruler of the land near Colossal Peaks made it so that the guardians that protected his realm could be treated with respect. Micah, the leader of the angels had then accepted the offering of safety from the mortals. The Angel’s solid white eyes glanced down at him. He fidgeted with the simple olive green tunic and rough brown pants. Being dressed mortal still felt awkward, but a gentle kiss on his cheek eased his worries.

“Behave, this is for balance, and you are needed here more.” His mother cooed, and Micah gave him a subtle nod before stepping in front of the small group of winged guardians. He stood before the mortal king and his royal knights. King Uther had liquid silver eyes that held an innocent curiosity at him. Micah placed a hand on his shoulder and urged him a bit further forward. 

“Hello, mortal ruler. You’ve built us a haven on Earth. While it is not in our nature to live among humans, we are drawn by your imperfect qualities. These are holy grounds, and we appreciate the gesture.” Micah’s voice held a gentle authority that even though his expression barely changed from a mask of reserved calm, the King’s royal advisers whispered among themselves in uncertainty.

Contact between the heavenly kingdom and gatekeepers from the monster of Colossal Peaks was unheard of. Humans made songs and dances about the winged men and women that kept the balance of the beasts that threatened to wreak havoc across the land. When the humans first settled as a small community thirty kilometers from the base of the mountains, the Angels had watched the first men build their homes and expand their livestock, cautious about the towering natural peaks that surrounded their northern territory. It took a few more decades before the small group of explorers ventured to the forests of the smallest mountain, and met with the nature spirits and the guardian, Lucian blocking their path toward the tallest of the seven peaks. In the next several years, men and angels met on occasions, though cautious of the exchanges. It was after three more decades until their first ruler. King Uther Pendragon braved the mountains and brought the first offerings to the heavenly kingdom. Silk from his finest weavers. In return, the Angels granted them protection. The following year one of the Angels, Carla had stumbled upon a lone hunter that ventured toward the crystal clear lakes. An unlikely friendship between the hunter and the angel formed, and the birth of a half-angel and man came to be. 

Because of the unlikely union, the King flew a messenger bird to Lucian and offered to build a home for the Angels. As such was the first occurrence, and the boy could not be raised with the Angels for his human flesh, King Uther gave his promise to the Angels to raise the boy on the point where heaven and earth met on Colossal Peaks. Over time, the boy grew with the Angels’ guidance until the age of eight years, the amount of time that it took for King Uther to complete the Sanctuary. The boy never met his real father because of the limited humans allowed on the top of the mountains. As he became old enough, it became clear to Micah and his mother that powers still slumbered within him but he needed to learn the life of his human self. Carla accepted that her son needed to learn more about humans and told the boy of his departure.

The boy’s bright jade eyes glanced between the older men that towered before him. The King knelt down until he was at eye level with him. At first, he had been intimidated by the steely orbs that bore down on him, until the small quirk of the man’s lip gave a strange reassuring warmth. “Hello there, you’ve been living here for a while now little one, but you still have no name.” 

Behind him, Lucian chuckled and made a quick ruffle of the boy’s already messy brown hair. “He’s half our kin, and half yours. As we have observed with mortal practices, his birth parents would sire him.” The russet haired Angel glanced over to Carla, who in turn had lowered her head and a faint blush on her cheeks. Lucian cleared his throat and further continued. “The boy’s father died a warrior’s death in these mountains. And Carla wished it to be your kind to name him.” 

A heavy silence hung over them like a shroud. Of course, the boy knew a few years ago that his supposed, mortal father never visited him, or gave him a name. He had the tall, winged men and women to keep him company during the days, and at night, the gentle fire at the hearth of the small marble shelter kept him company through the howls and bellows of beasts that didn’t dare venture closer to him. The King regarded him thoughtfully and lifted one large hand toward the boy. Confused, he mimicked the movement and reached out with his own small hand. King Utgard encased his hand in both of his.  _ Warm _ , the word kept repeating over and over again in the boy’s mind as he regarded the King. Just like the gentle crackle of the fire during the darkest hours of the night. The boy enjoyed how warm it was to hold that simple contact between him and the mortal. 

“The world beyond these mountains is vast,” The King began, but the boy knew this, he had no wings but he wanted to see the world that encompassed the giant trees and white stone. “Our time may be short, but I promise that you are under my protection. If you also have mine.” 

The boy cast a glance at his mother, and next to Micah, the only two Angels he felt more compelled to follow their lead. Micah nodded reassuringly. “The King will protect you, but you must also be strong and be there to protect him as well.” Micah explained, “You have the blood of our people and the body of mortals. Your path will be difficult, for you shall walk it alone for now.” Micah added, but the boy’s brows furrowed. He knew nothing about the humans, aside from the builders that slept along with their own tents and built the temple. They held many emotions and expressions that the angels only sparsely used. Could he do it? Can he leave all that is familiar to be by the mortal King’s side? Micah and Carla had mentioned it before how they wished to know more about mortals in their natural state, yet their bodies weren’t made to last on Earth. Angels were always pulled back to their home in the sky, but Eren never felt that siren song of the place the Angels returned to. In a sense, the boy felt lacking and listless during those brief moments when his mother waves him goodbye and he is all alone with nothing but his shadow as a company.

Would the King’s companionship be enough? Would the gnawing loneliness ebb away if he left the familiar woodland. Eventually, the boy nodded and the unspoken tension of the meeting lessened. The grin on King Uther’s face piqued his curiosity. And before he had time to comprehend it, the sound of wings flapping away caught his attention. Carla, Micah, Lucien, and the other archangels spoke no word anymore. No further instructions from the given command to him. He was then at the care of the mortal king. “Now for a name,” The King mumbled and got up to his feet. The rest of the King’s men began their shuffling descent down the narrow steps. Several of his workers merely bowed but made no attempt to follow. One of the advisors explained that while the temple was finished, there was still more to be constructed at the summit of Colossal Peaks. The Angel’s protection extended to allow only King Uther’s people from entering sacred grounds. The boy’s eyes however remained transfixed at the joint point where his hand still held firmly by the large callous ones of the king.

The crystalline lake where his mother had met the hunter, his father glistened under the rising sun. Often, during his younger years, the boy would wade his feet along the water while his mother watched from the side. The mortals called his mother, the Lady of the Lake, for she vanished and appeared at the same spot, unbeknown of her wings that she kept concealed whenever walking along the mountains. The glint of the waters, reminded the boy of the sparkle in the King’s eyes that came and went sparingly even as they walked down the uneven path down the mountain ridge. “How about, Cal, hmm? Easy name to remember.” The King said, and the boy tried to repeat the way the King’s mouth rolled the vowels.

“Cal,” he repeated, and an even larger grin lifted on his face. 

“Yes, Cal, fits you, yes? The horses and just below these cliffside paths. A bit dangerous to lead them up there, but after that, it’s another five days trek back to my kingdom.” The King glanced down at him -at Cal, and though both are uncertain of the roles they were to be to each other. Micah had already explained in advance all he needed to know.

" _ Listen to the King as if he were us, young one. A vow made with the Angel can last lifetimes. We do not know if you inherited our long lives, but so long as the King deemed you still needed, he is your master, and you are his servant.” _ Micah explained. Angels were honor-bound, and any vow bound by their laws and blood was lasting. Everything since the meeting with the King would be Cal’s test, and if he passed...what then?

***

It was only until weeks later, and a myriad of lessons did Cal learn that names had power and that the King’s sovereign on the island made the king the most powerful person on the land. Cal found out from the heavy textbook in the grand library of the king how his name was a shortened form of “ _ Chalybis” _ the Latin term for steel. Just like the liquid metal eyes that captivated him. The name brought reassurance that the King truly wanted him. He’d come to know of the King’s predicament of having no official heir to the throne. The people still respected King Uther, the wise ruler that voyaged the sea to find a new place for his people to settle and cultivate the land. He’d have his own private chambers within the King’s quarter. A soft bed, with thick blankets, and clothes that were a bit more restricting that loose. He’d even had to be educated by the King’s advisor, Emil Smith on proper manners and conduct, like wearing leather over his feet that the mortals called shoes. 

When word of the half-angel boy spread through the Kingdom, many had often flocked towards the castle, seeking to find the young man with the gem-like eyes and sun-kissed skin. King Uther had told him to never venture out of the greystone castle without him. Whispers of the boy made him an odd spectacle of curiosity. Cal enjoyed the different delicacies on the banquet tables at night. It was Emil that taught Cal how to read and write his name. After a year since his time on Colossal Peaks, the King regarded him one evening as Cal tried and failed to write a letter to his mother.

“I haven’t asked but, you’re around the age of pre-adulthood, correct?” King Uther placed down the quill feather while Cal lifted his head from the book he was reading.

Tentatively, age was fickle, like time. It moved so slow that Cal never thought of counting down the passing of days. Micah had once told him that humans value time differently than them. Cal thought for a while in the answer, his own track of time was hazy, but if he went by the age of the temple, Cal, by human years, was around the age of twelve. King Uther grunted and crossed his large arms over his chest. The crown atop his head lay on the side of his desk. The dark hair of the king had streaks of white and the wrinkles that etched along his face became a bit more prominent. From Emil, Cal had learned that the King fast approached his sixty-fifth birthday the following month. The main question was to whom the throne to his kingdom would go? 

“I need someone to govern my people when I am gone.” The King muttered and leaned back against the ornate throne, his eyes fixed at one point at the ceiling. The thought of the King’s passing did nag at the back of Cal’s mind. The Angels have always quoted how fresh would return to dust after a length of time. Over the years in Utgard’s care. Cal had done nothing but observe the world go by within the stone castle. Then, there were those short trips on horseback toward the sea. The King treated him as if he were truly his child, but still, they had an agreement to uphold. 

Sooner or later, Cal needed to perform his part of the contract between mortals and angels. “When will you teach me how to fight?” Cal asked on a more serious note, the younger boy shutting the book close and resting it on his lap.

An amused laugh left Uther’s lips, but he merely closed his eyes. “When I was younger, did you know how I came to be King?” 

Cal thought for a moment and recalled during one of the festivities a year ago, where the banquet hall was lined with so much food, and the normally quiet castle had been filled with so many sounds and colors. He’d once wondered if the large estate could fit the entire city and turns out, it couldn’t. Half of King Uther’s people flooded the castle for what Emil explained as a “thanksgiving” celebration. Cal avoided the crowds and opted to sit with the rest of the King’s close friends. Though they were on different levels of intoxication, they explained at best the madness of the night. At one time during the evening, Cal heard the story of King Uther’s reign.

King Uther Pendragon, the mighty and wise ruler that led people through hail and storm to find a new place to call home. The villagers that followed him after their homes were left in ruins by Vikings. There were different versions of the story. One version, the villagers said that Pendragon marched out of the forest with his horde of men to sweep away the enemies and brought prosperity to the land, another version explained how Uther made a deal with a wizard and thus overthrowing a tyrant ruler’s position. “Speaking of wizards,” Emil muttered and tapped Cal’s shoulder.

The young boy followed Emil’s drawn attention to the double doors of the banquet hall. King Uther’s giant smile beamed as he crossed the large room to greet the new guest. From the distance, Cal couldn’t see clearly who had barged in. Cal only saw the top of a green cloak, and King Uther towering over the person and enveloped them in a large hug. Many of the guests that had their eyes drifted from Cal to the exchange of the King. Soon, the people parted and Cal got a good glimpse of the cloaked stranger.

The green cloak fell back to reveal a man much older than Uther. Frost white hair combed back to reveal pale blue eyes, thick brush brows, and an unkempt beard as if the person had slept in the wilderness for years and only returned to civilization for a quick meal. His gnarled hands only appeared in glimpses under the loose fit brown robes, and dirt caked onto the soles of the man’s sandals. Many of the other guests bowed to show the man respect, while he walked side by side with the King.

In a jolly voice, King Uther reached Cal’s table, and the rest of the royal soldiers stood up in attention. “Cal, my boy, allow me to introduce a brilliant friend of mine. We go way back.” King Uther placed a firm hand on the man’s left shoulder. “This is Merlin, he has such extended knowledge and skills beyond worldly wonders.”

The older man, Merlin merely rolled his eyes at the King but the intensity of his gaze on Cal made the boy look down on his feet, suddenly shy. “And you must be the little Nephelim.”

It was the first of the many times that the term was used for Cal. He’d learn very much later, how he wasn’t truly the first of the half-blooded human angels that walked the Earth. Merlin in all the right sense became the person that taught Cal things broadened his mind to possibilities. Emil on the other hand guided Cal to a step by step routine of swordsmanship. There was the obvious reluctance on Emil’s part to teach a mere twelve –nearly thirteen-year-old kid, in fighting with swords.

The stiff padding for his arms and legs felt too tight and uncomfortable. Cal even rejected the idea of wearing the breastplate. “I feel ridiculous in all the excess layers,” Cal confessed and readjusted his grip on the practice sword. He frowned, the stick, though heavy with it being a crudely cut oak, still didn’t feel right by the balance in his right hand.

Emil snorted, and tossed him a leather cap helmet that Cal caught easily with his other free hand. “I’m sorry kid, but seeing how I am bigger  _ and _ much older than you, a little bit of caution is needed. I don’t want to see you getting broken bones or bruises.”

“Don’t go easy on me,” Cal retorted and laid the helmet aside, which to Emil made him look more like an arrogant kid, but the minute they held their swords up Cal struck. Other soldiers gathered to witness a first. They’ve seen how lethal the Angels were when engaged in the battle against the gargantuan beasts that roamed along the darker sides of Colossal Peaks. During the first few months that Cal came to live in the castle, he showed nothing significant that correlates to his Angelic bloodline. He’d been interviewed thoroughly by the King and his own court on the first shared meal the evening under the stars, several miles away from the temple. Cal could not manipulate elements, nor superhuman strength. Reading minds, or even seeing into the future was also beyond his talents. When asked if the holy beings had such uncanny skills, Cal pondered on it but found that aside from their prose of actually flying and agile movements. Cal had yet to see anything extraordinary with his guardians. 

The younger boy kept to his promise and didn’t make it easy for Emil. Being shorter, and less muscular. Attacking the giant Emil, with his broad shoulders, and taller stature head-on would likely be suicidal.  _ Fight smart,  _ Lucien always reprimanded him and it did pay off. Cal learned to observe before he struck. Emil expected Cal to charge him head-on, not faking a bullheaded move of rushing Emil head-on. Just as Cal was just within striking distance from Emil, the boy sidestepped to the left and whacked the crudely shaped stick at the back of Emil’s knees. The sudden attack unbalanced the tall man and sent him sprawling to the dirt with a loud curse.

Before the man could even turn around on his front, Cal gently placed the tip of the sparring sword at the center of Emil’s back. “I win,” Cal said with a huge grin, while Emil huffed a laugh and the rest of the soldiers around them laughed and congratulated him. Through the sea of familiar faces and friendly smiles, Cal caught a glimpse of the mysterious Merlin off to one side before his attention was drawn back to inquiries of his fighting technique.

It's times like those that if Cal looked back on, he wished he’d noticed when things began to change. Things that started out small, like how Merlin made permanent residence in the castle, or how less frequent Cal had seen the King. Mortals had been a puzzle that Cal barely understood. Too much secrecy and vagueness. One evening he’d asked Emil about the constant close door meetings of the King with Merlin. Emil simply shrugged and placed a large hand on his shoulder before their usual spar. “He’s the king, he’s often busy. Now, let’s practice that trick I taught you about disarming another’s sword arm.” 

Time continued to move on for Cal, and as months shifted to years, Emil ended their training a year after Cal’s first official spar with him. Soldiers often tried to beat him, but it soon became apparent that while the boy aged and grew like a normal human boy, his reflexes were far faster than even the most skilled swordsman in the King’s military. By the age of fifteen, Cal stood taller, and leaner, being under the sun more often during the long horse rides with Emil. and his men led to his frequent taste of adventure. He’d been fascinated by stories of sailing across the salty seas and was ever curious about the large sailing ships. 

“Your place is with the king,” The King’s adviser, Sir Oswalt remarked one time after Emil’s party had ridden out of the castle gates. Cal had heard of them heading back to a long excursion to the seaside, but the King had wanted him to remain in the castle. 

Cal groaned, and leaned as far as he could on the chair without fully tipping back and topple to the ground. Sir Oswalt had once been taller than Cal, but since his recent growth spur, the younger man nearly stands the same height as he. Sir Oswalt was always present during the delegations and important meetings with the king and even went as far as overseeing the amount of food and livestock they needed to survive through the long winters. Many had begun to praise Cal for his quickness and versatility with fighting if he had a bladed weapon at hand. “Nothing remotely exciting happens here.” Cal pointed out, while he stared at the ceiling, the dull grey stones that he often wondered if it could be painted over to look less dreary. 

Sir Oswalt barely glanced up from the mountain of scrolls that needed his attention. Oswalt’s greying hair was tied back into a tight bun that made his hawkish features a lot more chiseled, others would humor the advisor on how intense his stark grey eyes were, but one time, Cal had teased that the man looked like a surprised barn owl, the men, and even the King hollered in laughter. The nickname Sir Owlswalt circulated but the man at the point of the pun, never reprimanded Cal after he found out. 

“Boring is good,” Sir Oswalt countered, and the sound of the quilt’s tip scratch against the scroll filled the room. “Trust me lad, a country at war, a plague that hits the people, or even a simple fight between husband and wife over an affair. Whenever problems arise, the King worries not just for himself, but also for the hundreds of people under his reign.” The older man coughed, and it caused Cal to lift his head and turned fully to Sir Oswalt. Noticing how much older Sir Oswalt was from the time, they’ve taken him from the mountains. If he were to critically eye even the King himself, Cal would find how little that King Utgard participated anymore with wild hunts through the dense forest south of his kingdom, how he retired early after every council meeting, and seldomly last through the long drinking hours with his councilmen and trusted warriors during festivities and celebrations. 

Once again, Cal, even with the small passage of time, is reminded how old the humans that he was bound to are not as young or as active as he was. He wouldn’t voice it, but he knew something felt off, or rather, he felt excluded. The palace treated him like a fragile creature. Unsure of how to truly interact with him. Only Emil and the King treated him as someone capable of doing anything useful aside from sitting on his butt and reading books that gathered dust on the King’s personal library. 

“Peace is perfectly good, Cal. But one day, we will give you purpose, I promise.” Sir Oswalt assured, but it still didn’t bring comfort to Cal. He recalled, the day before meeting King Uther, how Micah pulled him aside and sat him down on the marble steps of the temple built by the King. Mortals walked around them, but never directly acknowledged their presence. Micah had explained that even Angels could make themselves and those around them invisible for the sake of safety and security. At first, Cal didn’t know what it meant, and Micah frowned.

“Humans think differently than us, and now, you will be living with them because of your birthright,” Micah mumbled and ran his cool fingers through his hair that really calmed him down during the awful storms or the loud howling of beasts in the shadows. “By tomorrow, you will live with them, and we won’t be seeing each other for a long time,” Micah added, and the thought of not seeing him or his mother, Carla, brought an empty sadness to his chest.

“How long?” Cal had asked back then, but Micah didn’t answer, and for years, he hadn’t heard from him or Carla. By the time Cal reached the age of seventeen, things within the palace shifted again. It was the first time he had experienced the death of a mortal that he knew closely.

Sir Oswalt died during one evening in his bed. The servants found his still body, the following morning. The somberness hung like a heavy shroud in the palace. It was the first time that Cal witnessed grief. An emotion that made most of the people within the castle listless, and even lethargic. The King sobbed within his bedroom, and while Cal knew death was part of the cycle of all living creatures. He’d seen the angels kill monsters before and walked away without much of a reaction. That night, when a dinner was held in honor of Sir Oswalt, Cal experienced a lot of traditions. First was that everyone wore black, including him, The seamstress had fitted Cal into a loose dress shirt of dark silk and black trousers. It fitted him right, but the way that no one seemed to be focused on anything or had bloodshot eyes from crying, he wondered how deeply cared about Sir Oswalt was. Most of the royal court held a last blessing ceremony for the late adviser, and even King Uther gave some words of farewell before they set his body ablaze within a funeral fire. 

“Things will be changing soon,” Merlin whispered to Cal as the people solemnly left the ceremony. Cal tried to study his own emotions and understanding of grief but he’s still not able to comprehend stronger emotions the way humans were. 

“Life changes all the time,” Cal said back as he walked next to Merlin. The odd wizard never showed any sense of magic the way that came naturally from the angels. He had asked time and time again about the things Merlin could do that were beyond human limits, but there wasn’t a time Eren saw the older man act any less than those from the King’s court. A week after the funeral, however, things had shifted within the palace. A new advisor was assigned to the King, a man that hailed from Marley seeking refuge with his people. King Uther welcomed Harold Fritz into the kingdom, together with fifty of his people in exchange for knowledge of the land they hailed from.

Unlike King Uther, Harold Fritz came from a tribe where humans were subdivided between royalty or slavery. At first, King Uther was horrified by the fact, but Harold Fritz assured that none of them were slaves and had escaped the worst from Marley. Cal listened intently but made no comments about the additional villagers. The initial interrogations led to tension within the King’s throne room. King Uther wanted to shelter the newcomers, Merlin and his other advisors however didn’t approve of the plans. “You must tread with caution, my lord,” Merlin said urgently while Harold Fritz left the throne room.

“He has come from a land of slavery, Merlin, these people need hope for a better life, not a tyrant that would build a wall against them.” King Uther grumbled, his large hand rubbing the side of his head before relaxing back in his seat. To his right, Emil stayed quiet, while Cal glanced between the two men arguing over what to do with the proclaimed Eldians. 

Merlin’s eyes softened and laced his fingers together. “You are a good man, Uther, however, I sense a hunger of power from these men. There is something they are not telling us, and I fear for your safety.”

“Then perhaps, Cal can be my protector.” King Uther mused, and even that brought a chuckle to him, but Merlin’s eyes grew wide and immediately turned to the green-eyed young man.

“That’s it!” He shouted with unkempt excitement and hurried across the King’s throne to where Cal sat, and a strange glint of excitement filled the wizard’s eyes. “You will be our solution.” 

** *** **

Cal didn’t feel too sure about the plan, yet there he was, within the secluded tower that Merlin converted as his observatory to the stars, it was the only place he truly enjoyed visiting in the new wing of the castle. The constant renovations being made to expand the castle forced Cal to limit his exploration or even help with the construction. He stuck to the King whenever the older man wanted company, or with Emil, who was more than happy to have a second pair of hands with his daily tasks on mundane things, like overseeing complaints from the villagers in the main city or beyond that. During the evenings, Cal would spot Merlin carrying a peculiar bluish flame torch up the narrow spiral staircase.

He never made the first step to go up the wizard’s tower, but after a couple of months of the tower’s completion, and with Merlin’s own consent, Cal was fascinated by the instruments and glass vials of the wizard’s room. Intricate metal devices that separate soil from gold, or turn stone into steel. “Little magic called alchemy.” Merlin once told him, but it was the long metal scope that stood on three pegged legs, facing the open circular window near the roof. Cal loved the telescope, an object that Merlin described he foresaw in his dreams and immediately invented it. “Pieces of circular glasses, a long pipe, and now, we can see a great distance.” Merlin said proudly while he rummaged through his cabinets and shelves looking for something, while Cal sat on the lumpy mattress, the wizard neglected with his odd knick-knacks.

“If only I can get my hands on a much clearer and thicker glass for the end of the scope, we can see those stars from where we are.” Merlin muttered while he hunched down on all fours at the lowest shelf near his battered chest. 

Cal tried to crane his neck to get a better look at what Merlin was trying to find, but the old man’s dusty trouser rump blocked his view. “What are you looking for?” Cal finally asked, and the Merlin finally cheered as he pulled an ancient, and worn out a book from the bottom shelf.

The older man slumped back and dusted off the thick layer of dust, before lugging it toward the round worktable. “We shall make you a sword.” Merlin said with a bright glint of mischief in his eyes. Cal scooted closer to the edge of the bed where he could take a better glance at the yellow pages filled with inked sketches and words that Cal barely understood.

“I could just have a blacksmith make me a sword, Merlin, if you plan to appoint me as one of the King’s Guard.” Cal mused the idea had been a floating thought between him and Emil. He had the skills, and twice the strength and speed to protect the king.

“No my lad, your role isn’t a mere soldier.” Merlin muttered and placed both hands on either shoulder of Cal. “ _ I _ will make you a sword,”

“I don’t understand.” Cal finally managed, he wasn’t a sharp object, nor inanimate. However, the wizard buzzed with ecstatic energy while he flipped through the pages of his book. 

“Angels, in theory, are a manifestation of a certain role while governing over the Earth. They carry the will of the Almighty in Heaven, however, you fall into a category, where you are half-angel, and human.” Merlin paused on one page that showed an intricate sketch of Angel warriors that flown down from a castle in the clouds, their faces morphed in determination, while their spears thrust forward on demons and monsters on the ground. “Micah, for example, is the Angel of Divine Plans, he foresees the steps of the Divine plan, and the purposes of life in general.” 

“So the plan is to make me a sword?” Cal said, purely confused by how the wizard accomplished this, and Merlin laughed loudly and placed both hands on his hips.

“We will assign you a role, my lad, just as the Angels destined for you. I understand now, what I must do. You, Cal, will be the first human, with the blood of the angels, shall carry a role similar to the dominion of an angel. We will make you the sword of the King, protector of the braveheart. And I will make your symbol of power.” Merlin explained, and set the book aside to unravel a clean sheet of parchment, and placed two heavy paperweights on either side. 

With a piece of charcoal, Merlin began sketching an outline of a sword, while muttering some words in a language Cal didn’t understand yet felt vaguely exhausted and drowsy as if he ran for days through the woods. “Do you mind if I lie down for a while?” Cal muttered, but the wizard was too transfixed with his humming, while he worked away on the desk. A loud yawn escaped Cal’s lips, and lied down on the lumpy bed, lulled by the mysterious language.

By the time he woke, Merlin was shaking his shoulder gently, and the heat from the fireplace made the temperature in the room too humid. That sweat plastered the fringes of Cal’s hair to his forehead. “Merlin,” Cal mumbled, his entire body felt too heavy, for a frightening moment, he couldn’t move at all as he laid on Merlin’s bed.

“Don’t worry, Cal, this’ll be agonizing, but afterwards, I promise, it will help the King.” Merlin assured him, but Cal didn’t like how his own body felt like dead weight and how Merlin walked closer to him, a blade in his hand. Cal wanted to scream for help, but the last he remembered was the sharp edge of the blade sliced cleanly through the skin on his left wrist and white-hot pain knocked him out again. 


End file.
